Dolls Have More Fun
by Uniasus
Summary: Things are developing between dolls and their Masters, aside from heated vents and revving engines. Not everyone likes the idea of being owned and forced to respond. And the planet itself has something to say about that. Second fic in my Doll 'verse.
1. Meet Prowl

**Disclaimer:** I claim no rights over the characters depicted in this little story collection.

**Note: **This universe is based on my other fic Pleasure Dolls. While you don't have to read that one to understand this one, it does help.

EDIT (8.7.10): Did a bit of retconing. Prowl and Ratchet no longer use the word 'Autobot' because as of this point in the story line, it hasn't been invented yet.

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Dolls Have More Fun

_By Uniasus_

**Chapter 1 - Meet Prowl

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They were always serious during meetings. The topic was important to them and the speakers were engaging. Orion Pax could command a room.

Afterwards though they were just ordinary, simple dolls enjoying themselves. Getting together for drinks directly after meetings was frowned upon, it would draw too much attention to themselves, but many met up in their spare time. They never ignored each other on the street either.

Under the Towers, while it was impossible to know every doll that roamed the streets, it would be impossible to not notice one mech ignoring another. Plus there were very few who did not like the Doll Alliance. It was not like they had caused any trouble, many just believed it was some sort of club for liked minded dolls and that was it. Most dolls were aware of the group on some level, but only a relatively small amount actually joined. Or knew it's true agenda. Thus ignoring a fellow Alliance member soundly pegged both of the dolls as group members, and since membership was secret they made no effort label themselves as.

Ratchet was a partier. He was not a fighter by far and Prowl wondered what the medic would do if down the road there was an actual confrontation between the Alliance and the Those In The Towers. Ratchet knew his way around words however; it was hard to refuse an invitation he delivered and that was how Prowl found himself sharing a table in a bar with the medic.

He did not know why Ratchet had taken it into his processor that they would make good buddies. Yes, they were both smart and believed in a healthy dose of logic, but that was where things ended. Prowl could convince others into decisions for the best, Ratchet could convince them to do silly, impulsive things. Like taking shots of the strongest stuff on tap.

That was most likely how they got on this topic.

"Can't you show at least a little emotion Prowler?" Ratchet was leaning against the wall, the only thing keeping him up at the moment. "You're always so cold. I know you're a peace-keeper, but still. And how in the world are you not off-line! Very few dolls can out drink me and you're barely even swaying!"

Prowl cracked a smile. "I thank my Creator for that."

Ratchet answered with a string of profanities and something about older dolls being lucky.

Mentally, Prowl disagreed. He may be a peace-keeper, a doll that actually had some power in this world, but he would do anything to have the jovial look at life that the medic across the table seemed to have. All the other dolls in the bar were laughing and having a good time. There was actually a line to get into the back half of the bar, where plug-in-cable sessions were held. Ordinary dolls acted like those around him, like he should be acting, but Prowl was not among their number.

"And how many cubes have we had now?" Ratchet continued, "Four? And you still act like you have something stuffed in your aft plates."

"I do not." Prowl bristled, a slight rearrangement of his armor along his shoulders and back.

"What you need Prowler, is a long, good interface. Overloads make anyone loosen up." Prowl tensed up, but Ratchet missed it looking over at the line into the back of the bar. "Guess we'll just have to do it in the street."

Ratchet slowly pushed away from the wall and slid his chair back.

"I am not going to interface with you Ratchet." Prowl ignored the medic's look by signaling the bar keep for another cube. The red doll shook his head, no doubt as impressed as Ratchet by his high tolerance.

"Why not? It'll be fun and you need it."

"No."

"Pit, I know I'm not the most attractive doll in here but I'm not half bad Prowl."

"I never said anything like that."

"Well it can't be that you have a strong loyalty protocol."

Prowl finally repositioned himself to look at Ratchet head on instead of out of the corner of his optics, a sophisticated 'no duh' written on his facial plates. The medic chuckled.

"So then what is it? You got a curfew?" Ratchet snorted. "Case tomorrow to take care of?"

"No." Prowl watched the bar keep place the ordered cube on the table in front of him and nodded his thanks before gripping the energon tightly in his right servo. Two astroseconds later it was down his intake value with no prodding from Ratchet. Perhaps that was what tipped off the medic that it was something a little more serious. Primus, his hardware was supposed to prevent him from doing such things! There was no way he would be divulging this to Ratchet if he were sober.

"Prowl?"

::I cannot interface:: He sent it over an encrypted comm line, not wanting to be overheard by the others in the bar.

Ratchet burst out laughing. He even fell out of his chair. "That's a good one Prowl." He continued to sit of the floor, laughing like a mad doll and drawing smiles from other patrons and no doubt several invitations for the night. Prowl sent him an almost hurt look and then turned his gaze to the collection of empty cubes on the center of the table. Really, he should not have drunk so much.

::You're not joking are you?:: The medic ceased his hysterics and climbed back into his seat.

::Have you ever known me to?::

::No. But we haven't even known each other for half of a vorn::

::I do not joke::

::But you're a doll! We're made to interface!::

::Not everyone Ratchet::

::But you've been called by your Creator for 'facing. So you can't tell me you can't.::

::I…do not have a port. Just a cable::

Ratchet was shocked into silence it seemed, staring at Prowl without even a flicker in his optics.

::That's…that's…:: the medic stuttered.

::You can see why I joined the Alliance then::

They sat there for a breem, Prowl still staring at the empty cubes, or rather where they used to be seeing as how they had been cleared by a worker, and Ratchet staring at the peace-keeper across from him.

::So you've never had an overload::

Prowl jerked his head up. ::I cannot. I do not have a port, remember?::

Ratchet's optics lit up and Prowl decided he did not like that particular look. ::You don't need a port to overload::

Prowl raised an optic ridge.

::Okay, okay. I've never heard of it either, but it is physically possible to have an overload without. Theoretically. But it would take a really long time and would essentially be foreplay all the way to the climax:: The medic trailed off, thinking.

::Well, I'm rather fond of foreplay and you said you don't have a case tomorrow::

Three breems later Prowl practically forced open the door to his apartment. Ratchet did have a way with words.

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**A/N:** Gah, this story was giving me issues and now I'm positively thrilled its out of my head and into type. Now I just have other issues figure out and write. This universe just hasn't truly left my head since I wrote Pleasure Dolls. And it's an annoying stay, I keep coming up with new question to answer. Recreating a universe and it's characters might actually be harder than developing my own.

Anyways, I hope you all have more positive feelings about Prowl now. It's not his fault he's dry, displays little emotion, and is logical almost to a fault. It's his Creator's fault. XD

I'm not planning on updating this regularly (I'm still planning on sticking to my priority list on my profile), but since this is completely different than my other TF fics and thus has no issue of getting confused with my other universes, you can expect to see a new story from time to time when the bunnies jump me and don't let go even for carrots.

You are welcome to ask questions and request what you would like to know more about from this verse. I'm pretty open to story ideas since I really don't have any liner plot in mind. I also have a poll up on my profile about this fic, if any of you are interested.

So sent those, reviews, and tales of the oddest yet most delicious thing you've ever dipped in chocolate to me via that button down below. Seriously, I'm getting bored of chocolate covered pretzels and cookies (as well as running out) and I still pretty much have a full cake pan of dipped chocolate to eat.


	2. Home?

Dolls Have More Fun

_By Uniasus

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_

**Chapter 2 - Home?**_  
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Red Alert knew he had a Creator (though he rarely saw him) and friends (actually it was only one). And of course he had a job, every doll did. He wasn't sure if he had a home however.

Granted, he wasn't sure what a home was. The only dolls he had contact with were those beneath him working security and Prowl when he came to visit. Red never had personal conversations with his subordinates, and thus his introduction to the word came from the peace-keeper.

"Home?"

"The place where you live; an environment offering security that one has affection too; a personal place to relax."

"Oh," Red had replied. "Have fun at 'home'". He watched Prowl's reflection in a screen diminish as the grey mech left.

He had run a search and define program in the background for the next cycle for 'home'. It was supposed to be a personal location, where one could unwind and not worry about the pressures of work. A familiar, safe place where one could rest.

Red Alert liked that sound of that, someplace empirically safe. But he knew no such place existed. That's why his job was so important; he needed to stay alert in order to make sure order was maintained in the energon and construction factories of Cybertron, that they worked perfectly and effectively. And there were so many threats to that! Drones misbehaving, shifts in the planetary crusts, unclaimed dolls trying to steal energon. And if the outskirts of the city weren't safe he didn't want to think about the issues that could crop up in the city itself.

But still, the idea of some place at lest semi-safe and comforting was a pleasant one. It seemed every doll had one in the lower city. There was his Creator's room in the tower, but Red had never seen it. He had been brought online here at the security hub. And he didn't have an assigned room in the city like most of the other dolls did. Unclaimed dolls had to have homes too right? Where was their home? Maybe he should ask Prowl.

Now that he thought about it, when was the last time he had left the office? Prowl had been after him for a while now to come with him to some meeting or another, some type of pro doll group. He remembered being slightly interested in going, why hadn't he yet? It must have been almost a vorn since Prowl started going. And surely, things would be fine without him for a joor or two, right?

An old, old memory file activated in his cortex. It was his first memory and his most frightening. When he had first been activated, the first thing he saw was a jumbled pile of parts laid against a wall. Gears were missing teeth, beams were twisted and turned, and a good portion of the parts looked half melted. All in all, the only way that metal could have been of any use was to send it to a smelting pool.

"Red Alert, can you hear me?" A voice said from his side. Red wanted to turn his neck to look at it, voice identification saying it belonged to his Creator, but he found himself unable to do so. So he nodded instead.

"Good. Red Alert, if you fail at your job, if _anything_ happens to the locations you are to protect, you will end up just like him."

And it clicked. The haphazard heap of parts he was staring at were not scrapped pieces, but a _scrapped mech_. His predecessor. Red Alert couldn't even tell a ped from a servo, and was unable to pick out any clue as to what the mech might have looked like.

"Understand?"

Mute, the new security director simply nodded.

And then, horror of horrors, the parts moved. The mech was _still alive!_ Red's systems froze for an astrosecond and then he started speaking in a rush.

"Yes, yes I understand! Nothing will happen, I promise!"

"Good."

There was a quick jab in his neck and Red Alert found he was able to move now. He turned his head to the side as his Creator spun the chair he was in around. Monitors stared back at him, dials and buttons, blinking lights, and feeds from cameras. Already programmed with the knowledge of what and where everything was, he got right to work. Sounds from behind him informed Red that the scrapped mech was being taken away and before long he was the only one left in the security hub.

Red Alert cycled air through his vents and flared the armor on the side of his head before clamping it shut away, a gesture linked to the idea of clearing unwanted thoughts from the main processor. No, he couldn't afford to leave his post to go to a meeting with Prowl. Nor could he accept Prowl's invitation of an overload (the peace-keeper had told him that dolls with their…equipment issues…could have one but it took a long time) because he had to protect the factories and overlook that new construction of a lower city building. Which would house rooms for dolls as more kept on being built. Homes.

Maybe Red did have a home. Here, this office, where he never recharged because he was constantly plugged into the city grid and his power reserves never drained. Where energon was brought up once a vorn for him to consume, to make sure his parts all stayed in working condition. Here, because there was nothing else but here. And he had to protect it from unclaimed dolls trying to get in, from parts deteriorating, from drones walking off. There was so much he had to plan for; he had no time to leave!

As if compensating for even thinking of taking some time off, his hands worked in a flurry, scrolling through camera feeds and asking for status reports from those stationed at the locations he had control over.

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**A/N:** In case you guys didn't quite get it, Prowl and Red have the same Creator. Who is Alpha Trion. But you'll never seem them refer to him as such so I figured I might need to say that part out loud ^_~

This story, about why Red is paranoid, is brought to you courtesy of those who voted for it on the poll on my profile. Though I was surprised more people wanted that then to see the twin terrors. I'm revamping the poll, so those of who voted for what you wanted this chapter can have another say. And remember, you can select more than one.

So reviews? Or rain boots would be nice too. I have an urge to go puddle jumping in all the puddles left behind from last night's rainstorm.


	3. Ordering Twins

**Disclaimer:** Transformers belong to Hasbro, to my sadness.

**Dedication:** This is for Faecat, who really needs a pick me up so I hope hot robot sex at least makes you feel better for an hour or so. And thanks Fae also for helping me develop what exactly is the problem of owning twins and figuring out who Mirage is under all that plating. So this is dedicated to you twice! Have a good day dear. *huggles*

EDIT: Oops, I forgot to mention where this takes place chronologically. This particular one is old, as in, it takes place not only before Prowl's chapter, but the first fic in this series, Pleasure Dolls. In fact, this is not Sideswipe's first appearance, though it's the first time he's named. Wonder if you guys spotted him earlier...hint, he's in the first chapter, Meet Prowl.

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Dolls Have More Fun

**Mirage - part one**

_By Uniasus_**

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He was a Master, which already meant he deserved the best around. But he was more than that, he was Mirage. The current best wasn't good enough. So, he asked for it to be made.

The best of the best doll meant the best of the best engineer had to make it. And he wanted not just one doll, but two. Twins. No one had twin dolls, so not only would he have the best, but also the first.

Wheeljack, to say the least, was excited by the challenging prospect. The engineer had gone on and on about potential spark linking, what form they should take, coding. Mirage told him he didn't care about the construction as long as he had twins that were beautiful, top of the line, and the best around at interfacing.

The other mech's ear fans had flashed a soft, yet dark blue, and then he went quiet for a moment. The engineer had given an approximate project finish date and then Mirage had walked out of the lab.

And now, five vorns later, Wheeljack stood at the door to his quarters with two covered gurneys. Quickly, Mirage showed him in, taking control of the left gurney and leading the other mech towards the center of the room.

"Met your new dolls, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe," the engineer ripped off both covers at once.

Mirage was please to see both paint jobs complimented his own majestic blue. Sunstreaker was a rich gold while the other mech was an energetic vermilion. Both of them also had attractive features: symmetric forms, tall, smooth joints, helmets, and gaps in armor plating showing glimpses of internal wiring.

"You know how to activate them?" Wheeljack asked.

Mirage gave him an irritated look. These weren't his first dolls. "Yes."

He meant it as a dismissal and judging by that soft-dark blue Wheeljack's ear fins flashed, the engineer caught on right away.

"Just, send the gurneys back in the next orn," the white mech retreated out of the loft.

Mirage spent a breem just looking at the twins, and then made his way up between them, hand trailing up one of Sideswipe's arms as he did so.

He started with the red one, snapping open the cover to his data port. Dolls only had the port, no cable, here at the base of the head. They had no reason to be sharing information, only energy through the equipment on their torsos. Not that Masters shared data either, what was the point? The head port was limited to giving commands and uploading software to dolls.

Mirage downloaded the basic software, coding that would embed itself to the doll's core programming to ensure the obedience of any doll to its Creator. Later, it could be altered so the doll responded to his new Master when sold, but a Creator's imprint would always be there. The doll would never be able to refuse communications from him, be loyal to him and him alone, and would have no choice but to respond to summons. Being a Master gave one the ability to remotely send shocks through the doll's frame to doubly ensure such things.

He unplugged from Sideswipe, gave the same program to Sunstreaker, and then stepped around until he was standing in front of them before remotely activating them. This was why he liked to be a Creator, to witness the onlining of a mech, though dolls weren't really mechs, just simulacra of them. It was a heady rush of power, one such a mech like him deserved, and a coveted thing because it only happened once for each doll.

Their optics lit up; Mirage was pleased to see that they were the same shade of blue as his plating. Automatically, they looked toward each other. It grated on Mirage, as their Creator they should be paying attention to him. As soon as the thought crossed his processor, both sets of optics turned to face him and Mirage passed it off as a twin thing.

"Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, hello. I'm your Creator."

The twins looked at each other again, just out of the edges of their optics, and Mirage found himself getting irked. They were supposed to look to _him_ for answers when they first awakened, not others. Even if they were twins. Plus, what answers could they possibly have for the other being so newly onlined?

A rev of his engine brought their focus back to him, and he was pleased to see their optics trace his frame. It always felt good to catch the optics of others.

"Hello Creator," Sideswipe said, flashing a sensual smile. Wheeljack really was an artist when it came to engineering dolls; that smile alone affected Mirage's lines.

"Hello Creator," Sunstreaker mirrored, his smile a tad more aggressive than his twin's, a tad less respectful. Mirage wanted to change that.

"Pleasure me," Mirage directed toward the yellow doll, though the command was meant to be completed by the pair as a whole.

They didn't physically give anything away, and yet without the EM hum-buzz of an internal communication being sent Mirage knew they were communicating with each other. Not even a cycle old and already they were disobeying him!

He accessed his Master program and sent soft, warning shocks through the dolls' systems. Sunstreaker looked like he wanted to growl, but something held him back. And of course, what doll didn't want to interface? It was in their core programming! And he already knew the twin dolls found him attractive.

Mirage was about to restate his demand when Sideswipe spoke. "Of course, Creator."

And then Sunstreaker was suddenly off his gurney and helping the other doll off his, extending an arm for support that Sideswipe graciously took. It wasn't a needed gesture, and it seemed an extensively…royal thing for dolls to do. Especially for another doll. Even if they were twins.

Mirage stood waiting, forcing them to approach him and watching them do so. Sunstreaker had a scowl on his face, but his touch on his twin's arm was tender. Sideswipe however seemed to ignore what his brother was doing, as if it was only expected. Instead he was smiling at Mirage, almost similar to the one earlier, but raunchier. All of his attention was focused on the red twin.

Sideswipe stopped just far enough away so their chassis didn't touch, but Mirage could feel the heat of an aroused engine and was pretty sure doll felt it too. He couldn't tell if it was his own engine (he liked to think he wasn't _that_ easy to stimulate) or the doll's because both were running silent, but all thoughts on such matters escaped his processor as two black hands gently cupped his head and Sideswipe dove in for a kiss.

Sweet pulses of electricity bounced around his oral cavity and Mirage quickly sent his own in return, leaning towards Sideswipe and grabbing on to the doll's upper arms. Sideswipe pushed back, deepening the kiss and stepping forward until Mirage's backside hit the hall behind him. The blue mech roared his engine and forcibly placed the doll's hands on his side while his own fingers turn to brushing arm dermal plates.

And then Sunstreaker was pulling Sideswipe out of his grasp and attacking his neck cables, electric pluses strong enough for Mirage's vocalizer to hitch. And then rough fingers were prying into the seems of his dermal plates, pulling upward on the metal to cause quick bouts of pain that Mirage had no idea could be so tantalizing. He found himself manhandled until he was slammed against wall and he woke up to the idea that dolls could be aggressive lovers, but they should not be rulers.

Mirage bit one of the ear fins on Sunstreaker's head and then shoved his hands against the doll's chassis. Sunstreaker stumbled backwards, would have fallen even, if Sideswipe had not been there to catch him. Not liking having his lesson lessened, Mirage used his Master program to quickly shock the yellow twin's motor programs. Sunstreaker arched in pain, but didn't voice any sound, it wasn't the highest setting Mirage had access to anyways.

Gently, Sideswipe laid his twin on the floor and glared daggers at Mirage, who didn't give the red doll a chance to do anything before he pounced. With a low engine rumble he had the doll flat on the floor and began placing electric kisses on his exposed wiring. One hand reached up to dig a into shoulder joint, luxuriously stroking internal lines, while the other began to scratch lightly on Sideswipe's groin plate. The doll arched under him in pleasure, a moan escaping his mouth that invoked an engine rev from not only Mirage, but Sunstreaker as well.

And suddenly the golden twin was there, kneeling over Sideswipe and capturing the other doll's labial plates in an up-side down kiss so heavy in sparks from both of them that stray charges made their way to Mirage's fingers which were now reaching under one of Sideswipe's chest plate to stoke the underside of the metal. It caused him to look up from the side wiring he was running his glossa over to watch the twins kiss.

Sideswipe had a hand cupping a golden cheek, one of Sunstreaker's own covering the other doll's hand while his other traced circles on the black helmet Sideswipe wore. Mirage could do nothing but watch, somehow understanding that what he was seeing, this passionate scene between two dolls, was more than just wanting to exchange energy while interfacing. It was something more intimate, something that shouldn't be possible because as everyone knew dolls didn't have complete sparks like Masters because it was impossible to create one. Just as he knew that what the dolls in front of had was something he never did and they were newly onlined!

With a snarl, Mirage ripped off Sideswipe's groin cover. His own followed, slightly more gently. He wanted to connect, and connect now! He pulled his interface cable out, his port snapping open, and roughly pulled out Sideswipe's so he could plug into the vermilion doll.

But before he could make the connection Sunstreaker's hand had shot out and plugged his own cable in. Mirage brought his head up to glare at the yellow doll, but Sunstreaker took hold of Mirage's cable himself. Well, if he wanted to be the first one to have his Creator plug into him, Mirage wasn't going to stop him. Instead he inserted Sideswipe's cable into himself.

He sent a surge of energy along his cable, catching Sunstreaker off guard and posturing himself almost completely over Sideswipe to capturing his lips while the gold doll was distracted. Sideswipe melted into him, going limp as the energy cycle between them started accelerating in speed and power. Sunstreaker was doing that lifting of his plates again down his back, he was kissing Sideswipe, Sideswipe was teasing the area around the base of his cable, energy thrummed, heat built up, there was all this touching, and then Sideswipe gasped, a breathy 'su' coming out of his mouth as he overloaded, taking Mirage and Sunstreaker with him.

They collapsed in a heap, vents cycling hard in a pathetic effort to cool them down. Wheeljack really was the best doll maker, Mirage thought.

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**A/N:** . Yeah, I had been playing with the idea of keeping this as a T rated fic, but this just threw it all out the window.

And yes this is part one of three I'm thinking, on our quest to understand why owning twins is dangerous. I was playing with the idea of just uploading them all together as a long chapter, but I got some feedback saying readers would prefer consistently sized chapters. Plus, who knew how long it would be then until you finally got an update?

Also, I refreshed the poll on my profile page asking for your guys opinions for what you want to see next chapter. I wish there would just be away to remove one option and give back the votes to those who picked it, but I'm fairly confident such a thing is not currently available. So you'll have to reselect what you wanted/make new choices because I added a couple of options.


	4. Titanium Moosebot

**Thanks:** Once again, many thanks to Faecat for helping me figure out Mirage and the twins, and thank you dragonqueen gold for the rough beta.

**Note:** Not to sure how many of you were aware of my added note last chapter of the little edits I made to the first chapter. Nothing worth going back to read really, but straightening up the time line. So, in chronological order the chapters go as follow: 3 (Ordering Twins), 4 (Titanium Moosebot),1 (Meet Prowl), 2 (Home?), and then the one-shot that started this all - Pleasure Dolls. In the future I hope to keep you guys updated what goes where, but I seem to be shuffling things constantly :/ I might rearrange all the chapters so they're in order once this fic is finished.

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Dolls Have More Fun

_By Uniasus_

**Chapter 4 - Titanium Moosebot **

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"Stay here," Mirage ordered the shuttle as he and Soundwave disembarked. The doll didn't respond, but it did power down its engines in response to the command.

Usually Mirage enjoyed hunting turbofoxes – not that he was always able to catch one – but the challenge made the energon in his lines sing. Soundwave though said Laserbeak had spotted a titanium moosebot in the area and suggested they try to take it down together.

It was not going to be an easy feat, Mirage did not have the power to confront it by himself and Soundwave's...others (Mirage didn't know what to call them exactly) were incapable of bringing down anything larger than a retrorat. Titanium moosebots on the other hand were large enough to be capable of considerably damaging the two Creators.

But moosebots were tempting targets; they were rarely seen in the vicinity of the city. It was too flat; they much preferred the mountains to the city's west where dolls and drones had not terraformed the land. While not built for flying, they were excellent at gliding. Small ailerons along their sides assisted in jumping from outcropping to outcropping and they did have thrusters for feet to make a leap longer or taller to move up a mountain.

"D-dolls?" Soundwave asked as they picked their way down the hill to scout out potential hiding locations to wait for their prey from.

Mirage grinned. "Everything I was hoping for."

And maybe a little he wasn't, but that wasn't the sort thing one Creator should say to another. They were supposed to be in full control, the elite of Cybertron. Admitting…things…could make him seem weak.

They ended up selecting an overgrown hill; the cybergrass was tall enough to hide both of them if they laid flat. Soundwave opened his chassis and two of his 'others' were ejected. Ravage landed with a thump as her legs collapsed underneath her and Laserbeak took up a lopsided loop around their heads to clumsily land on Soundwave's shoulder. All in all, not bad. Buzzsaw still had issues getting into the air while Frenzy and Rumble had issues even standing. Wave was still having vocal issues he noticed, but Mirage knew the other mech hated the attention it drew and thus had ignored it earlier.

"Will you- they- be okay doing this?" he asked.

Soundwave nodded and then gave silent commands to the smaller beings. The plan was for Ravage and Laserbeak to find the titanium moosebot and then herd it towards the two Masters. Mirage had his private doubts about the ability of his friend to pull it off, but he knew Wave needed the practice and even just seeing a moosebot would be a treat.

They lowered themselves down on the ground. Mirage settled the butt of his rifle on his right shoulder between the two of them. Soundwave lay close by, their legs barely touching as a signal amplifier folded out from his right shoulder. Mirage tried not to think about the engine heat he could feel from his friend.

After a few breems, Mirage started a closed comm conversation with his fellow hunter. The moosebot would be able to detect and open line. Soundwave's others were as close as another mech had to twin dolls and there were some things that needed checking.

::Wave, do any of them work better as a pair?::

Soundwave turned to look at him, faceplates blank, before answering. ::Yes, I've found that Frenzy and Rumble do best when together. Laserbeak also seems to have more success in the air when Ravage is out, but Buzzsaw lacks a similar trait::

Mirage turned the information over in his processor. ::But the performance levels are greatly improved when two of them are together, correct?::

::No, only by 16.2%::

So not as drastic as Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.

::Is there something wrong with your twins?::

Mirage internally winced. Trust Wave to pick up on things he didn't want him too. It didn't help that they have been friends for vorns, Mirage failed to remember a time when they hadn't known each other. He didn't answer right away, scanning the skies for Laserbeak and the occasional hills for a flash of metal from the moosebot. The sun had sunk a degree before he sent a reply.

::I tried to use them separately, but their processor and motor relays slowed down. They were…not only incapable of pleasuring me, but unable to get heated up themselves. The yellow one couldn't even stand for more than a couple breems::

Wave was silent for a breem before answering. ::Hook didn't make them, did he?::

::No, I went to Wheeljack::

::He normally does not create glitched dolls::

::I know.::

Mirage looked up and thought the dark spot in the sky might belong to Laserbeak, but he couldn't be sure. Usually he didn't mind the long wait hunting required, however he was having a hard time not squirming inside. He had essentially just admitted to not only having a problem, but also that he had no solution.

Interfacing with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker together was no longer pleasurable. The struggles for control they had during their early sessions had been fun and challenging, but several orns into Mirage's ownership they were still fighting. He ended up shocking both of them several times on a high setting during their last session as a threesome, only to still have them attempt to over power him though they were too weak to do it. While Sunstreaker had been the aggressive one their first session, Sideswipe had slowly dropped his passive demeanor and was also doing him harm. It had taken a full two solar cycle for his injuries to heal one time.

Mirage was forced out of his thoughts by Soundwave sending over a set of coordinates. Finally, after nearly a joor of waiting, Laserbeak and Ravage had found the titanium moosebot and were bringing it in. According to the information Wave sent him, they would appear in their line of sight slightly north of where he was aiming. He adjusted accordingly and the two of them settled in to wait.

The black speck in the sky became more distinguished; it's wobbly motion identified it as Laserbeak. Before long, Mirage could make out moving cybergrass and sporadic gleams of metal. The moosebot was getting closer! Soundwave slowly inched away from him to prevent any hampering of the shot.

Through the lens on the rifle, Mirage tracked his prey's progress. He could make out two disturbances in the grass, the moosebot and Ravage. The moosebot was tall enough where Mirage could see its head and antler fans above the cybergrass, but it was too far away to get a good shot. Not that he knew where to shoot; there were theories about gaps in the shoulder joint, but on a whole the creatures were greatly protected. Maybe if he aimed for a thruster or aileron…

Following the moosebot step for step through the rifle lens, Mirage noticed that the angle he was looking for was never going to happen if his pray continued on it's current choice.

::Can you have them change directions?:: Mirage asked Soundwave, sending calculations of the angle he was hoping to get. He didn't get a verbal response, but Laserbeak dived at the moosebot and changed its course slightly, Ravage nipping at its heels. He found himself vaguely wondering why the moosebot wasn't being a little more aggressive, but then settled deeper into the ground to stabilize his rifle.

There! Apparently gaps did exist at the rear of the shoulder joint, visible only when the foreleg was stretched out. Tracking it, Mirage calculated the timing and then fired.

It was impossible to tell if he missed or if the moosebot had heard him pull the trigger and moved just in time. It bellowed and immediately turned around and charged at where Mirage suspected Ravage was. Alarmed, Soundwave jumped up and ran towards his others while Laserbeak was doing his best to distract the moosebot by making lopsided circles around its head.

Cursing, Mirage put away his gun. There was no way to guarantee that he would not hit his friend at this range. Sprinting towards the confrontation, the moosebot seemed to be trying to ram Ravage and Soundwave seemed to be trying to hit the larger quadruped with his small hunting gun but failing because his capacity to speak wasn't the only skill that suffered from the procedure, Mirage looked for another space to set up camp. After climbing another hill, Mirage took out his rifle again and set it up.

Through the lens he saw the moosebot charge at Wave, who was now standing between it and Ravage, who looked to be unable to place weight on a leg. That close, it was hard for the navy mech to miss. Soundwave's shot hit the moosebot's front, causing it to rear and giving Mirage a good shot at its antlers. The titanium animal screeched in pain before giving up the fight and taking off. The thrusters it had on the bottom of its feet ignited and it bounded away.

Mirage left his gun on the ground and ran to his friend to see the damage. Laserbeak was unharmed and shifting forms to return to Wave when he came abreast his friend. Ravage's side was severely dented, foreleg impossible to walk on, and incapable of reverting to her smaller, more compact form.

"You okay?" Mirage asked, watching Soundwave bend down to gather Ravage in his arms. He could see dents, but nothing more serious than that.

"Y-yes."

Mirage nodded and then glanced around. A flash of metal caught his attention and he walked over to retrieve it. A souvenir, a piece of the moosebot's antler. He called out Wave's name to get his attention and waved the metal in his hands.

Soundwave smiled. "K-keep it. Go-good shot-t."

"Thanks."

They fell into step together, going to collect Mirage's rifle and then heading back to the shuttle.

::Have you tried interfacing with one while the other watches?:: Soundwave sent in an effort to keep the conversation from the shuttle they were almost upon. Trust the other mech to keep track of past conversations and to know Mirage wanted advice without wanting for him to ask for it. It was one of the things that attracted him to the other mech.

::Yes, but I'm not one for audiences::

It wasn't a total lie. He had tried it, and the first time the twins had acquiesced and the 'facing was of a perfect roughness. But the times after…they got bold. Halfway through an individual session with Sideswipe, Sunstreaker had butted in. The overload of that session had been amazing, but since then it was impossible for have one twin to himself for more than a breem into a 'facing session. The other always forced himself in.

Silence settled in around them once more, Mirage feeling more and more angry and shamed as he realized a set of doll twins were backing him into a corner. He had to have them together if he wanted an overload at all, but overloads were increasingly coming at prices he shouldn't be paying as their Creator. Minor injuries, too long power struggles, and sessions that quickly were not about getting the best overload possible but were more of a fight for control. It was getting to be too much. Mirage would give Sunstreaker and Sideswipe one last chance, and then he was scrapping them.

::Maybe:: Wave said as he rapped on the shuttle's side to open up. ::There is simply a problem with doll twins.::

Well, that was certainly better than thinking the problem was with him.

* * *

**A/N:** No real twin action in this chapter, but hopefully that's okay. They'll be in the next Mirage installment, promise.

Titanium Moosebots do exist, they're mentioned in the G1 episode _Fire on the Mountain_, but so far we have no canon information about them other than they have ailerons and live in really cold places. No pictures either, so I of course had to draw one myself! It's over at my deviantart profile, which is linked to on my profile. And while you're snooping around there don't forget the poll I have up to determine the next subject for Dolls. You may now vote for 7 instead of 5 options. Kinda surprised there aren't any votes for a Jazz section, and the Aerialbots and background info for the Dolls are tied to be featured next. Then again, only 3 of you have voted. Tsk tsk!

In other news, I can't guarantee when my next update will be. Come the 14th of September I will be hoping on a plane to New Zealand where I'll be for three month due to an internship. My first full time, real person job! So who knows when I'll be able to write. Add that to the fact that I want to participate in NaNoWriMo again this November for an original novel...but if I get enough demands I might simply work on Frozen's sequel instead. I finally have it outlined and think it will be less than 50K so it might be a doable project for me to do while I'm frantically working (me, the intern, will be the sole full time employee!) and conducting the research I need to do if I want to get credit.

So...you might get things while I'm abroad but you might not. I'm hoping to update Zirconium and Beast before I leave too, so be on the look out for those.

I would love any advice you guys might have about things to do in New Zealand. Most of my time will be spent in Wellington, but I do have time at the end of my internship to travel a bit.

Reviews are lovely, make my day, and thus are high appreciated. I promise to give all who review an e-huggle.


	5. Enough is Enough

Dolls

_By Uniasus_

**Enough is Enough**

* * *

He wasn't scared of them, he wasn't! He was a Master, their Creator! He was the one in control!

And yet he hadn't summoned the twins for a session in a while. The space between them had been growing since before he and Wave hunted the moosebot, but the times had grown much more since then. Mirage told himself it was because Wave's comment worried him, that there was a problem inherit with twins, and he didn't want the problem to affect his own systems.

He didn't think about how weak the argument was, energy transfers rarely transmitted glitches, but continued to use it. Fear for health was a much more reasonable fear for a Master than of loss of control. Because that should never happen. A Master should never have such a fear. They were always in control.

Mirage hated to think about what might happen if such a thing was no longer true. Most dolls wouldn't revolt, it went against their programming, but the glitched ones? Sunstreaker and Sideswipe?

He shuttered.

But it wasn't good hiding in his tower from fear, which ever one it was. He was a Master! An expert hunter! He was going to show those twins once and for all!

He made a power play straight off the back. Mirage knew that this was one of the busiest nights for SideStreaker, the bar they ran for dolls. Pulling them away would either force them to close shop or call in a replacement. And while he knew they would take their time doing it (they always did), Mirage knew they would come eventually. The additional summons every half breem helped too.

They came up to his level, started circling him. No 'hello Creator', no 'what would you like Creator?', but Mirage had been letting that go for bigger battles. Besides, the aggressive play they normally used was arousing, until it got to far of course.

Mirage let his engine hum, standing still while Sunstreaker and Sideswipe spiraled closer, delivering stray touches to sensitive joints. It was the one point of power he still had ample control of: the first move.

Sideswipe ran a servo along his lower back, teasingly dipping a finger into his left leg joint as he walked around. Mirage didn't let him pull away. Instead he pulled the red doll closer, kissing his mouth with high voltage sparks, while his left servo guided Sideswipe's hand deeper in the joint.

And then Sunstreaker intervened, grabbing Mirage by the back of the head to break the kiss and digging a servo into his side. Sideswipe's servo was still in his leg joint, wiggling deep and pulsing with light shocks, and then all connection to it was gone. Mirage's leg collapsed, sending him careening to the floor with a crash.

He shocked them both through his Master program, the dolls arching in pain as Mirage steadied himself. No time to worry about his leg if he wanted to stay in the game. He tackled Sunstreaker, rolling over so he straddled the yellow doll. Trying to be nice, showing what he wanted, Mirage started kissing and rubbing his glossa into the cables on Sunstreaker's neck, one servo reaching up to caress ear fins while the other crept down to lightly trace the doll's interfacing coverings.

Sunstreaker's reactions were bittersweet, one servo digging painfully into his side while the other traced a pattern on his front with a heated finger. It made a nice contrast to the feel of Sideswipe's cold glossa following the lines of his back plates.

Mirage shuddered, arching back into the red doll's touch and forgetting about Sunstreaker for a second. That was all the opportunity the gold twin needed. Mirage found himself shoved aside and sliding into a wall while Sideswipe took over his position and began planting his own kisses on Sunstreaker's neck.

He shocked them both again, taking a bit of delight in the way the dolls arched in pain. But as usual they didn't utter a sound of pain.

Mirage took a running start and tackled Sideswipe, forcing the red doll flat against the wall while he pressed into him from behind.

"How many times will it take?" Mirage panted, grinding against Sideswipe's aft while his servos skirted around to the doll's front to force open his interface panel. "When will you finally learn to listen?" He sent the highest voltage he could from his servos straight into the area Sideswipe's plug was, a dirty move, painful, but at this point something he deemed necessary. He pulled cables out for extra measure.

And Sideswipe finally screamed.

Which of course meant Sunstreaker got angry.

The gold twin was capable of greater stealth, but at this time he was charging with no effort to mask his steps. Mirage let go of Sideswipe, spun around to land in a crouch, and aimed his rifle at the raging doll. He shot and a barbed net spit out to send Sunstreaker crashing to ground. The doll's trashing encouraged the net to tighten, digging barbs deep into wire and circuitry. Mirage could see the glow of energron.

He made the mistake of watching Sunstreaker and not Sideswipe.

There was a pain in the back of his net, his data port! They were never used; Masters had no reason to have programs or software downloaded into them. And even dolls' data ports rarely saw use after activation. It hurt! And uncomfortable feeling of something cold and rough thrusting deep and harsh into sensitive feeling circuits and wires. Mirage couldn't help it, he crumbled to the floor in pain, dropping his gun and instead reaching to the back of his neck to get what ever had jacked into him out, out, out!

And then he heard a voice in his head.

/_When will __**you**__ learn?/_ it sneered in a two tone voice. _/You are one, I are two. You do nothing but stay here. I work as four. It is obvious I are the superior. __**Give up.**__/_

_ /No!/_ Mirage snarled. _/I'm your Master, your Creator! You should listen to me!/_ He sent a shock through the twin's systems, but the pain Sideswipe felt was quickly transmitted straight to his cortex. He ground his denta and bore through it; if two glitched dolls could do it, so could he.

_/And yet here you are struggling, at my mercy./_

_ /Sunstreaker's down, what makes you think I can't do the same to you?/_

The jack in his port twisted and grew barbs. Mirage arched up and back, tightening his grip on whatever Sideswipe had plugged in his cortex.

_/You will pay for what you did./_

And then the world went black.

* * *

He awoke joors later, slumped against the wall. His armor was dented, scratched, and in some places ripped off. Underneath him were pools of energron, but he was no longer leaking. But he was poisoned.

All dolls had a secondary job to pleasure, a side career of sorts that allowed them to keep the city functioning and service Masters in that way. While the twins maybe be bar owners, Sideswipe had been programmed with a chemist's mind. Mirage's lines had been twisted and rearranged, so instead of pumping pure energron his fuel pumps were working with a concoction heavy on coolant and lubricant. It hurt, burning his interior lines and causing his pump to slowly falter.

He needed a medic, a Master medic, because he refused to give any doll access to his systems. Not before, and especially not now. But a Master medic would ask questions and he was not going to let the rest of his caste know he was unable to control dolls. A drone perhaps? But he doubted their skills.

Which left Soundwave. The mech had some medical knowledge, he preferred to do all the repairs himself if he could on his others. And he could keep secrets. Mirage sent him a message, asking for help.

The twins were not there, and Mirage found himself wondering what to do with them. If he sold them off, it would raise questions. So he'd keep them, maybe send shocks to their systems every so often, but would never invite them up to his level again. Never advertising their Master bar. And then, when some other Master lost control of their doll and it was all over the Towers, he would feel comfortable selling them. Maybe to the scrap heap.

**

* * *

A/N:** And here ends Mirage! Unless he makes a cameo or two. The twins' story still has a couple of parts, but like here they don't actually tell it. Sorry if this is rough, it literally wrote it last night and this morning and due to time had to rush to put it up. Cuz you know, once I write something I like to share it.

The poll is still up on my profile page, seeing which chapter of this 'verse you guys want to see next. We've got a three way tie at the moment, so if you haven't voted yet I suggest you do. Remember, you can vote for seven of them.

But yeah, I have way more time to write here than I thought I would, not that I'll always use that to write, but the time is there. I went through 25 episodes of TF: Animated yesterday alone. Once I'm done with those (I give it less than a week, I love the portrayal of the Cons in it!) I'll most likely do more writing. Happy?


	6. Jazz

Dolls

_By Uniasus_

**Chapter 6 - Jazz**

* * *

There was something about fighting that made the energon hum in his cables. The fast paced action, the timing of the moves, how everything is connected to what came before. Balance, precision, accuracy. Battle.

Jazz doesn't know why it calls to him, except to guess that it's like dangerous dancing. As to why it calls in some matter or another to every single other Creator, he doesn't even try to guess. What's the point? Thinking about such things weren't fun. Watching the gladiator show downs was.

The Creator who owned all the gladiator dolls, Megatron, made his way to the center of the ring. He didn't need to amplify his voice; as a Creator only space the gladiator ring was small and the gray mech naturally spoke loudly.

"Fellow Creators, thank you for coming tonight! This evening will be the debut match of my two newest dolls, Red and Yellow. I hope you enjoy their fight tonight."

Jazz leaned forward in anticipation. Megatron sucked at naming his dolls, but he always found those good at fighting. Jazz loved debut matches, loved trying to guess the moves and the unpredictability of the fights because he hadn't figured out the new doll's fight style yet. It didn't take him long to learn the styles of the gladiator dolls, five matches at most, and once he did Jazz could accurately predict the outcome of any match up. New dolls got him thinking. He liked that.

Once Megatron returned to his seat, the metal panel behind the left corner slid aside to let the first new doll into the ring. Judging by the gold paint job, this was Yellow. Who was a very attractive doll, Jazz had to admit. A finned helmet, exposed cables near the joints, symmetrical structure. He didn't usually like to 'face with gladiator dolls, too feisty, but he might make an exception for Yellow.

The door on the other side of the ring opened and Jazz had to add another exception to his list, for Red was equally attractive. He almost let out a whistle as the two dolls stood face to face, but deemed it unnecessary as a few other Creators released some first.

Still, there was something odd, peculiar about the pair. And it bugged him enough that when the two dolls started fighting, he didn't bother watching the actual fight. Jazz watched the dolls. Okay, stared.

They fought, like all gladiator dolls, on pure instinct. There was nothing in their optics to indicate personality, life. They were usually drones who had gained some type of intelligence or dolls with faulty sparks, not real dolls. Using real dolls would be a waste; if they were scrapped they couldn't do their societal roles. But it was okay for gladiator dolls to get ripped apart, they didn't have any other use in society.

But the two fighting now, Jazz couldn't get over the feeling that they were different. They didn't look it, they moved in that same emotionless way and looked out of those same emotionless optics. But something screamed in Jazz's processor that they were unlike other gladiator dolls. Two dolls, both good looking, one red and yellow, looking oh-so similar.

He reeled back in horror. Jazz _knew_ those dolls. He didn't remember their names, but he remembers them. How could one not? They were twins and ran on of the more up scale bars. Jazz popped in from time to time, the bartender, the red one, always had novel and tasty cocktails. The yellow, no, gold one, had done all the artwork hanging on the walls.

They weren't gladiator dolls. They were real dolls. And Megatron had turned them into this.

Suddenly, Jazz found he hated the rings. Hated the fights, hated Megatron. He got up and left.

**

* * *

A/N:** eh hehehe. Been awhile since you guys had one of these, eh? So sorry! Please forgive me! Sorry, sorry, sorry! But um yeah, here's Jazz. He's none to happy now. If only he could find a Creator version of the Autobots...which does sorta exist. Not sure where in my timeline to place it, but it has a presence. And it might come as a surprise that Wheeljack is the founder. :/


	7. Evolution

**Note:** Like I said before, chapter order is determined by what you guys vote for on the poll on my profile (which is updated with the release of each new chapter, and if you voted for this one you now have an extra vote to spend on another chapter idea), and not the chronological order of things. Which is partly because I'm not too sure of those myself :/ Anyway, this story fits in after Jazz's sections, but before Red's by roughly a year. I do think however it's only slightly before Pleasure Dolls.

* * *

Dolls Have More Fun

_By Uniasus_

**Chapter 7 - Evolution**

* * *

If you asked any Creator who was the authority on sparks, they would answer Wheeljack. Sure, he was a little crazy and you typically don't want someone fond of explosions near your life source, but the white Creator was where to go. He built the best dolls.

Wheeljack though knew he wasn't a spark expert. Oh, he used to be, no doubt about that, but now he was beginning to doubt it.

He, as well as many other spark engineers, had learned what they knew from studying the dead and dying bodies of other Creators. This was acceptable when they all first woke up, what other use did such mechs and femmes have? And before Cybertronian society reached it's current status, Creators had been stricken by various aliments. Some lived, some didn't, but they all presented fabulous case studies into the spark.

Obviously, the building of dolls and having them do all the work relieved the stress on Creators' systems and it had been a long while since a Creator got sick. So Wheeljack moved on to making dolls. Which he was rather good it.

The secret to making a doll wasn't just in the chassis and wiring, but in the spark. Building them was unpredictable; Wheeljack knew what they were made of, how the interacted with the body, but every time he constructed one it looked different. The frequency of them varied, as did the hue they had, but Wheeljack put it down to effects of the programming and personality Creators wanted.

Always though, doll sparks were dimmer than those of Creators. It was an artificial life after all; there were bound to be some imperfections that made them of a lower status. Not to mention they couldn't shift forms. That was something linked to sparks, and dolls just didn't have that capacity. And drones? Not a chance. Drone sparks were pretty much all the same – small, low frequency, and gave off a dime white light. They were lesser sparks and Wheeljack didn't concern himself with them.

He had never been able to create a Creator spark, but that just confirmed that Creators were natural beings meant to rule and that Wheeljack couldn't create a perfect life. It was a nice reminder to be humbled before nature.

Being the expert on sparks made him also the go-to guy for doll repairs and those curious drone cases.

"What do you mean he stop working?" Wheeljack asked while prying open his chest plates.

"I mean exactly that," Perceptor said. He was a doll Wheeljack had built to help around the lab. "Alpha Trion said that Red Alert said he just left his post and started walking towards the door. And he did it the next week too even after a reinstallation."

"Most interesting." Drone sparks were pretty much all the same because they had the same limited programing. Do this job, and only this job, stopping only to fuel or if you need repairs. They were more machines than anything else, though gladiator drones had a bit of life to make fights interesting. Not that Wheeljack ever went to one. For a drone to be acting against his orders even after having them reinstalled, there had be an issue with the spark.

The chest cover came off. Wheeljack spent a moment pushing aside wires and Perceptor clamped them down so they wouldn't get in his way. Opening the laser core, white mech figured that maybe the engineer who had made this spark did it improperly and it was starting to come apart. Instead, the spark had a slightly red-orange tint to it and the frequency was much higher than any drone's spark. Still, it was more drone than a doll.

"How upsetting," Wheeljack muttered.

"I don't understand." Perceptor said.

"The engineer who made this drone tried to give him a personality. That never goes well, it drives the drone insane, especially if it isn't in line with the programming it's installed with. I guess we'll just have to build a replacement spark."

"And what about this one?"

"Destroy it."

Perceptor seemed to freeze, hesitate, and Wheeljack looked up at him frowning. "It's not strong enough to be a doll and any mind it might have would just get destroyed due to programming conflicts."

Slowly, Wheeljack removed the spark from the laser core and deposited in Perceptor's hands. "Get rid of it," he enforced with his Master protocols and Perceptor turned around to do as he asked.

What he had dismissed as a freak occurrence came back to his main processor as he looked over a doll over a vorn later. He hadn't built it; he never would have put so many sensors on a doll's frame. Which was essentially the problem. The doll was to sensitive and overloaded too fast, killing any fun his Master had planned. It was no wonder the doll had had several owners.

On a whim he had decided to look in on the seeker doll's spark and was surprised at how un-doll like it was. It was a bright orange and large enough it almost seemed too big for the laser core. It was a Creator spark, but the seeker was most certainly a doll.

He dropped his tool and Perceptor looked up from across the lab. "Everything alright?"

"Yes, just clumsy. Do you think you can build me a new laser core slightly bigger than the one he already has?"

The doll tilted his head, looking up the seeker's schematics. "No problem."

Wheeljack nodded and then got lost in his own thoughts. Had the spark evolved? And why wouldn't that drone spark leave his processor? Had it too? And what about that set of twins?

Mirage had come in looking worse than the twins he had commissioned, all beat up and dented and had demanded replacements for the defected dolls. And defected they were, sparks not consistent but constantly fluxing and shifting color. Linked doll sparks just weren't meant to be, no matter how many times Wheeljack looked at Blaster's or reviewed his notes from the Construction mechs. They turned violent, unstable. Mirage's pair was the first and last set of doll twins ever.

But what if they simply had evolved sparks, sparks whose personalities rebelled against Mirage and doll programming?

It was an intriguing thought, but one he couldn't prove as the dolls were no long around to study. But this doll, this seeker, if he could convince his Master that there would be times he would be useful and wanted… Not often of course, but if he wanted simply to play by making another overload repeatedly instead of himself, this doll would be perfect. And Wheeljack could keep track of him, a small tracker and vital monitor on the new laser core would be easy to hide. Who else would ever open this doll up?

And I wonder, he thought, looking up to watch Perceptor program the vectors into the metal cutter, if it's a trait all dolls have or only certain ones, those that are faulty. Or is it 'faulty' because of a lack of explanation?

Wheeljack did love discovery and answering questions.

* * *

**A/N:** I don't know where Perceptor came from! He wasn't in this chapter plan originally, and now he has a whole story waiting to be written if you guys vote for it.

A couple of notes. In this verse, there is only two flier models - seeker and shuttle. So the doll Wheeljack is working on here can be pretty much anyone with wings. You're welcome to take a stab at who he is if you want. Also, as mentioned, only Creators can transform. I don't think I've mentioned that previously because, well, I didn't think of it before this chapter XD But in all honesty, there really isn't a reason for dolls to have an alt form to begin with and Creators don't shift very often either (with the exceptions being seekers on occasion, but all Creators, and dolls for that matter, can fly a la 80s cartoon style in bipedal mode. Tis just not very practical for anything other than short distances, and most Creators/dolls take transports).

I swear, when I get this all straightened out and chapters rearranged so they're in narrative order, there will be a lot of changes in the details. Goodness!

So yes, I figured it was soooo long since I updated for this fic I just had to bring in a new chapter. That I wrote while I was at work tonight, fancy that! Does that count as being paid to write?


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